The Collection
by Sekah
Summary: This is an anthology of my short fics, ficlits, and drabbles that are too small to stand alone. There will be many pairings, not the least of which will be Karasu/Kurama.
1. The Deep Blue Sea: KarasuxKurama

The rigging whistled with sea gales, eery still through all the layers of groaning wood between Kurama's miserable sojourn in the brig and the deck. Waves beat against the hull; icy fingers of sea water that felt like dread crept up Kurama's neck. He shivered, nude flesh bit by the iron manacles, tasting salt on his tongue and hating it, hating it.

Kurama narrowed his eyes in the wet and darkness, and thought bitterly of his short-lived career as a corsair. Originally from the village of Bazemont, Île-de-France born and bred, he'd run from farming to the nearby city of Paris and there, been press-ganged into a crew. The French corsairs, privateers who functioned little better than pirates, had been taken in battle by their betters: real pirates. Most of the men had been killed outright.

Kurama was spared, for a pretty face and a delicate body was an asset on a ship like this. Kurama knew that the captain of this damnable frigate, Karasu, a hard cold man with a hard cold face and hard cold desires, was starving and freezing him down here to make him weaker, more malleable. He'd been consigned to the brig when he refused to lick the scum from Karasu's boots. Kurama's pride, as he shivered and cursed, was already crushed - he knew he would rot away and die if he were kept in this cold, dank cage too long. At this point, he would lick the boots of a hundred men, and thank them, if afterwards he could have a square meal and a warm, dry place to curl up in.

No sooner had that treacherous thought entered his head than the door opened, and a lantern appeared, Kurama's eyes watering and squinting in the light, which pierced straight through his head in the extended hours of darkness.

"Unlock him, get him up." The captain's voice was smooth as the bolts of cotton cloth from the new world that were so prided by merchants, nay, smoother, like butter with no cow hairs in it. Barely able to see, let alone fight, Kurama was manhandled up, his bilboes unlocked and allowed to fall from chafed-raw wrists.

He could do little more than moan and shiver as he was dragged away, the sick smile on the captain's face hidden from his sight.


	2. The River: YoukoxKuronue

The sun was low. The river's curve cut through loam beside them.

They were oblivious.

Youko Kurama bit through Kuronue's shoulder, fox ears perked and forward to catch every gasp and grunt of agonized pleasure, every coughed-out curse.

Their bodies met and melded, hot flesh sliding slickly, sweatily, past hot flesh, everything sensitized and aching.

The sun would set on their lovemaking - the sun would rise on it, too. What matter, when they were in love, engorged with each other, hot and beautiful on this baking summer night, beside the cool curve of a river?


	3. Reward: SensuixItsuki

"Up against the wall."

Itsuki revealed nothing to Kazuya's nasty smile. He put his hands on the wall and spread his thighs, a familiar, comfortable position.

A butterfly. Which…?

"Beautiful, Itsuki. Here's your reward…"

Ah. Minoru.

And then a tongue curled along his balls, and a firm hand wrapped around his shaft, pulling the head and jerking _just so, _and Itsuki no longer cared.

He had taken pleasure, and he had taken pain, and they were equally desired.

Itsuki bobbed on his heels, moaning shamelessly, loving Sensui's tongue.


	4. Rome: Crossover with HBO's ROME

The year was DCCXII A.U.C. by the humans' calendar. The demon and human worlds were both working themselves up into bloody conflicts. On one side, the newcomer Mukuro was stirring up nigh-suicidal trouble in his desire to rule the Makai, reduced to dark, desperate sallies by night because of the waxing strength of his nemesis, Raizen, the then undisputed king. Across the few barriers in place at that time, and oblivious to this, the Romans prayed to a group of capricious and power-hungry demons they called Gods, begging help for the different sides of the great Civil War being acted out on their world's stage. Many demons marveled at the single-minded brutality of the human forces, which fought, they believed, with the futility that came from lives of no more than fifty years.

Neither side of the barriers were attuned to the triumphs and defeats of the other half of existence, and no help was offered by one to the other, no matter how the Romans prayed to their demonic Gods. Still, with the fighting that went on, there were overlaps that went down into legend. One such was the story of the seduction of Lucius Vorenus by the nymph Natsume, as the XIII legion told it. The truth, well—that was something else entirely.


	5. Strip: ToguroxSakyo

A deal had been made, a contract written up in tasteful language. Toguro mused as he sipped his coffee. It was unorthodox—frankly, Toguro had never pegged Sakyo for the _catching_ type—but the man was attractive and the money good. There was no reason to refuse, really.

"I'd like to see you strip," Sakyo said. Casual, as if ordering a drink. It earned a disbelieving quirk of Toguro's eyebrow.

"I'm not a whore, Mr. Sakyo," Toguro informed him flatly. Looking deep into amoral blue, defying Sakyo's petty desire to control him, Toguro stood with a grunt and moved away from the chair with a few long steps backward. "But I'll accept, for now."

Sakyo nodded, and then leaned his head on his fist, his elbow propped on the arm of the chair, his other hand slack in his lap.

Toguro was artless, and maybe that was why it was so sexy. He was brusque, looking deep into Sakyo's eyes and undoing his coat a button at a time. He shrugged out of it, strong and so in control that it made Sakyo's groin burn, and tossed the jacket over a chair.

His face blank, as much of an enigma to Sakyo as ever, Toguro calmly undid his fly, still unreadable as he tossed his pants to land neatly with his coat.

He took the wife-beater off last, and then that was tossed away, much more carelessly than the coat.

"You are truly amazing," Sakyo chuckled. Toguro merely cocked an eyebrow, showing no real embarrassment over his own nudity (and indeed, he had little to be embarrassed of).

"Undo the pants," Toguro directed.

"Why?"

Toguro bared his teeth in a smile. "You'll see!"

* * *

And indeed, Sakyo did. He growled, feral, as Toguro opened his mouth wider and took Sakyo's balls too, sucking and lashing the stiff, aching rod and swollen sac with his tongue. Sakyo was snarling, his slacks drenched with spit and big hands pinning him to his chair, one on each hip, the businessman losing himself enough to writhe slightly. Toguro released the cock and balls from his cavernous mouth in one movement with a lascivious pop that made Toguro's own groin throb, almost painful.

He took only a moment to meet that lust-ridden gaze and the swollen purple shaft that was pulsing with the need for more, before diving down, ghosting over Sakyo's perineum, and plunging his tongue far into Sakyo, finding that spongy gland and swirling the long muscle over it. Sakyo huffed out a curse and hissed when his hands, seeking his neglected cock, were captured in one of Toguro's massive palms, Toguro's other hand fixing on Sakyo's dick and jerking, massaging, Sakyo beginning to shake from the sheer amount of stimulation he was receiving, that cold look of hunger filling his gaze.

By the end, he had been bent over the couch, and was well and truly fucked.


	6. Drugged: KarasuxKurama

"Karasu, please."

The quiet plea, the simple begging, made no more headway into Karasu's mercies than if Karasu had been a snake, or a raptor.

"Don't move now, pet," Karasu said, sing-song. "This might kill you if it's improperly injected!"

Kurama shuddered, closing his eyes and enduring the prick of the needle.

His heart beat, faster and faster. It took him a little while to realize what kind of drug this was, and by the time he did, the aphrodisiac had been diffused through his system.

Karasu didn't even have the kindness to watch.

An hour and a half later, an hour and a half of a ceaseless erection that was now not merely painful, but so needy helpless tears leaked down flushed cheeks in a steady, continuous flow. His shoulders shuddered when he heard the footsteps.

Truly a pitiful sight, Karasu thought smugly when the door opened and he walked in, a covered tray balanced between two hands and a truly malicious look in his eyes.

He took the tray he'd brought and laid it on the table, and then tilted Kurama's face up. For a long moment, neither spoke, Kurama's wide, shame-filled eyes and plump lips, actually drooling, enticing Karasu so much his breath was stolen.

Karasu leaned down and kissed him searchingly on the lips, smirking as his suckles sent noticeable shivers down Kurama's body.

Karasu unbound Kurama and flipped him over, guiding him until he was balanced against the wall.

Kurama's cock was swollen and veined, throbbing, shivering, bobbing with little jumps of Kurama's stomach.

"Karasu…"

And that broken alto husk was so beautiful to the crow. "Yes, darling?"

"Don't do this—d-don't do this—!"

"You would like to die, lovely? I chose a drug that will keep increasing in your system until you release at least five times. It could easily stop your heart, left … untreated."

Kurama mumbled something.

"What? You'll have to speak up, darling."

Kurama's hands shuddered against the wall. "Rather—die—than be willing—for your touch…" he panted.

Karasu stood back, eyes cold.

"That was unkind. The ice then, first. And when you come, I will not touch you. It should be excruciating, but it's no more than you deserve."

Two mad bombs burst from the wall and clamped on Kurama's wrists, drawing blood, keeping him in place.

Karasu walked back to the tray, and opened it. He took out a large bucket of ice with a smile.

Kurama turned back, fearful, and moaned at the sight of one cube that was, in size and shape, rather more like an icycle.

He had no illusions about where that was going. He cursed the fire in his own belly, the unbearable rending heat of it.

"Be a dear and don't let this fall out, okay, darling?" Karasu said, and that was all the warning Kurama got.

He wriggled and moaned, the sting of being stretched and the pain of his flesh dragging making him claw into the concrete wall. It was awful, horrible, and without the drug's help, it would have been nothing but painful.

With it, however, there was something—satisfying. Or closer to it than squirming in the iron chair, unable to relieve himself.

Karasu left the icicle carelessly inside Kurama, and then pulled out a few square ice cubes. "Let's see how long it takes you to come with just ice."

It hurt, but it was soothing, too, which Kurama was determined not to let on. He whimpered and gasped against his will, a line of spittle falling from his mouth, while Karasu, cold as his toys, ran the ice over a leaking head, and rubbed it gently but firmly around the glans, following each vein, and down behind his pretty, swollen, coin purse balls. He gnawed cleanly at Kurama's neck, pausing to coo encouragements to him.

Despite the cold, all Kurama could feel was fire, getting stronger, building, ever building.

Karasu noticed, and made his own preparations, switching out ice cubes when one got too small, the heat from Kurama's cock melting them down into water all too quickly.

Kurama was shivering miserably from the cold, the quickly melting rod of ice in his ass becoming more and more comfortable as it lost girth.

Kurama was teetering on the brink. Karasu saw, and suddenly started vibrating the ice just below the head, that point at the front where there was a little triangle of skin, his hand moving too quickly to even be a blur.

Kurama tensed. His muscles tightened. He was there, almost there, and then, just as his orgasm was past the point of no return, broken sounds spilling from his throat, Karasu simply ripped out the icicle, dropped the cube, and snagged Kurama's hips in a bruising grip, so he couldn't even thrust as cum exploded from his head and splattered the wall.

Karasu kept him there until there was no hope of salvaging the orgasm, and then simply dropped him.

Kurama hung by bloody wrists and sobbed, his erection already stirring back to life between his legs.

Karasu sneered, wasting no time with ripping open Kurama's legs.

He fucked him bent over, moving more for his own pleasure than Kurama's.

Still, it brought Kurama to several screaming orgasms in a row.

The fox was given no reprieve.


	7. Suck: KoenmaxBotan

Koenma was good at sucking.

And he was proving it, too, with Botan spread over his desk like a feast. Her head cushioned by her long blue hair, she shivered cutely as one of his hands plucked her nipples and his lips expertly caressed her clit until she was singing, Lord Koenma, oh Lord Koenma!

He kept up steady even pressure, using his tongue to dig out her clit from under its hood and then sucking gently until her whole body started to shake, her hands moving blindly, frustratedly, through his hair.

She knocked over the paradises, she was getting lewd juice and saliva all over the punishments, and for the moment, she couldn't begin to care.


	8. Hypnotic: KarasuxKurama

It was a pretty little trick, and Karasu had perfected it. A snap of the fingers, and he was Karasu's.

They kissed lengthily and slowly, nipping and sucking and biting at each other's lips. Kurama's willingness had made Karasu hard as a rock. Continuing to savor that lazy teenage mouth was a form of torture, the neat movements of tongue and teeth sending zings down Karasu's spine.

Kurama, at a mere breath of command from Karasu, leaned back and sucked his bottom lip, beginning to unbutton his shirt, lashes lowering coyly. It was sinful, those eyes demure and half-closed, his whole posture loose and open, that dreamy look in his eyes the icing on the cake. An unaware Kurama would do what no power Karasu had yet devised could accomplish: it would have Kurama seducing him, ready for him, performing for him and only him.

The mere thought, and Kurama's fingers stroking and pinching his own pink nipple, made Karasu let out an appreciative groan.

Kurama toyed, teased, somehow in control of himself though he was truly out of it, complying with Karasu's unspoken compulsion to put on a show. He stripped his socks, dangled them to the side, and dropped them. His belt was undone, placed to the side, neatly folded so it would be a matter of a moment to whip Kurama with it.

Perhaps I'll use that to wake him up, Karasu thought, and grinned cruelly at the thought.

And then he twisted out of his pants, soundlessly smiling over a shoulder and leaning over the science clubroom's desk.

"Oh, Kurama," Karasu breathed, addicted already. He knelt gracefully behind Kurama, and slowly, softly, began tonguing his dick from behind.

Karasu was practiced, and lust-ridden or not his head was clear. He sought all the ways to make Kurama moan, vainly finding the noises Kurama couldn't suppress a testament to his skill.

When Kurama was hard and throbbing, drops of pre-cum collecting in his foreskin's folds, Karasu turned his attentions higher.

The puckered hole was nibbled and sucked, the muscle tested with a flicking tongue.

When Karasu penetrated, he pressed thoughtfully on Kurama's stomach and forced his tongue as far in as he could, wriggling it until Kurama jerked.

His teeth continuing to nibble the folds of skin, his tongue mercilessly pressured that one sweet spot until Kurama was mewling continuously, collapsed over the desk and so painfully aroused when Karasu reached up and toyed with his swollen head, rubbing it between his fingers, he started to shudder, uncontrollably, balls cinching up, a minute from orgasm.

Karasu stopped, immediately, pinning Kurama's hands to his hips.

He waited until Kurama had receded from the orgasmic brink once more. As he did, he poured the oil he kept with him always, in case a toy deserved it, over his cock, watching it dribble over the length of bone-hard skin. He slicked himself up, backhanded, and then let Kurama go, flipping him around and pulling him up for a brutal kiss as he forced inside him, his eyes rolling at how perfect it all was.

They came together, and it broke the hypnosis.

Kurama's tears were what made Karasu pick up the belt. The closeness he'd felt turned to water, and seeped into the floor.

Kurama was taken three more times anyway, before, trapped in a tangle of cum-striped limbs, he was no longer conscious.


	9. Yusuke: ToguroxKarasuxKuramaxYusuke

"Yusuke…"

Just that one broken little whisper was enough. It started tears down Yusuke Urameshi's face, tears that soaked into the gag and made his face shiny and puffy with weeping and snot.

Toguro's calloused paw tugged Yusuke's length, brutal but provoking. He watched Yusuke carefully, tracing the pain and fear, the little shivers of pleasure, unwanted, unneeded, that shone with it.

Karasu cackled, fisting his hand in the back of Kurama's hair and forcing Kurama's face into the musk of Yusuke's balls.

Yusuke hung suspended from bondage straps. He'd never felt so humiliated, so vulnerable, in all his young life.

"Good puppy. Lick his balls now! Perhaps that's how we'll feed you, pet," Karasu mused. "We'll spread it over your pal's body, and if you want to live, you'll have to lick it clean. Come now, can't you see how he's suffering?"

And it was true. The aphrodisiac was making Yusuke's cock ache with arousal, his nipples little nubs, his face flushed from that and the crying. Kurama didn't hesitate, knowing that the endorphins when Yusuke came might spare him from this horror, if only for a few seconds.

So, he licked his lips, slicking them up, and suckled Yusuke's sac until he screamed, screamed and cried, Kurama's professionalism feeling a million times better than Toguro's cruel, curious pulls.

"K-Kurama—!" Yusuke whimpered, for a moment forgetting the rest, the captivity, the pain, all the endless reasons why he shouldn't enjoy this. He wailed when he came, spreading it hot and thick into Kurama's hair. The whole erotic spectacle was taken in by sultry black eyes and wicked, evil violet, Yusuke flushed and shaking, his eyes widening sightlessly, Kurama sucking hard on his cinching balls.

Yusuke collapsed into the sling, shuddering, but mewled pitifully when two massive hands started forcing apart the globes of his ass.

Kurama, panting and cum striped, did the only thing he could think to do. He lay back willingly, tonguing Karasu's length by his cheek for a moment to keep him quiet.

"Toguro," he said, lifting his hips and spreading wide his legs, anchoring himself in place with his own palms, exposing the tail they'd forced inside him. "Please, take me in Yusuke's stead. I will be as you want me to, but let Yusuke alone. Please, I beg of you."

Toguro looked sideways at Yusuke's blushing, tear-mussed face. "You're begging me?" he asked, amused.

"Would that please you?"

"Try it, and we'll see."

Kurama's face, tight with misery though it was, suddenly seemed clearer, more natural. There was no hint of shame or embarrassment, just a happy whore smile that no one, male or female, young or old, could do but fake. "Fuck me like a dog, Toguro, Master. Ram it into me again and again and again," he couldn't suppress the wince, and it made Karasu shiver and Toguro grunt, softly, that hint of unwillingness, that reminder that this was nothing more than a violent rape, wrapped up in the pretty almost-consent. The pain in Kurama's eyes made Karasu snarl something that sounded feral, a curse in some Makaian tongue. "Fuck me, Mast—" and then his mouth was corked with Karasu's cock, which rutted into his throat, veins standing out on the elegant youkai's forehead as he sought completion from Kurama's lips and tongue.

Toguro patted Yusuke on the ass, unable to say no to him, and knowing he was trying to spare his friend's virginity.

Toguro respected that.

He knelt heavily, watching Kurama gag pitifully on Karasu's cock, Karasu throwing his head back and growling Kurama, Kurama, Kurama, over and over again, sweat dripping in obvious beads down his forehead and back.

Toguro poured some lotion on his cock, rubbing it in and huffing at the feel of his own hand.

Then, he lined up and simply thrust. Kurama tore. He didn't stop, rutting instead even harder.

They fucked Kurama to unconsciousness that night, and woke him up the next morning to do it again.


End file.
